


Feather and Fang

by PeppDream (Pep_Pizza)



Category: Dreamwastaken, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Animals, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Animal Transformation, Bears, Deer, Developing Friendships, Forests, Foxes, Friendship, Gen, Magic, No Romance, Owls, Protectiveness, Ravens, Wilderness Survival, Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28444065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pep_Pizza/pseuds/PeppDream
Summary: George is a raven. How did this happen? Hell if he knows.All he knows is that he's being followed by a wolf with green eyes that look much too intelligent.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 136
Kudos: 215





	1. 🐦

George is a raven.

He hadn’t _always_ been a raven, no. He’s definitely been human before. He knows he has human parents, and he has human friends, and he’s definitely supposed to have arms. Not _wings_.

But George is a raven. One day he had opened his eyes only to find himself sitting on a branch in the middle of some random forest, and he nearly had a heart attack. And probably almost died, when he fell off the branch from shock. His bird-instincts saved him at the last second though, and he had spread his wings, landing gently on the foliage-covered ground.

George was a _bird_. Black feathers, curved beak, no fingers. It had taken him some time to process this, as he surveyed his surroundings, weakly hopping around on his twig-legs. It was wonky at first, looking out of his weirdly-positioned eyes. Trees were so much _bigger_ , and the world expanded before George’s eyes like an endless maze, trying to swallow him whole.

Then George had spread his wings again, and like it was second-nature to him, he flew.

Past the moldy tree trunks, past the emerald green leaves, and as George burst through the canopy at the roof of the forest, he realized something. He wasn’t _trapped_ as a bird, no.

He was _free_ as a bird.

And the world was _beautiful_. As George streaked through the sky, wind filtering through his feathers, the world spread out beneath him in a beautiful canopy of green. _Green_ , a color that George had never seen before, nothing close compared to the murky dark yellow he sees with his color-blind glasses. It dazzled him completely, shook his heart to the core. _This_ was what he had been missing out on as a human. This… this _wonderful_ spread of colors underneath him, was so _bright_. So _fascinating_.

George fell in love with the color green.

After a few more experimental flaps, and once he’s completely memorized the sight of the trees beneath him, George had descended back into the forest, carefully dropping himself onto a higher branch. 

The wonderment eventually wore off though, replaced with confusion and a slight panic. So George is a bird. Okay. Why? How did this happen? George thinks back to what he saw in the sky, and he doesn’t recall seeing any human civilizations nearby. Where even _was_ he? George flaps upwards, perching himself at the tippy-top of a particularly tall tree. Gazing out at the world, all he sees is an endless expanse of green, and the occasional flutter of some other fowls.

Maybe this was just a dream. But a dream wouldn’t explain how George’s colorblindness was suddenly cured. A dream wouldn’t explain how… _real_ this all felt.

The wind above him combines with the temperature in the air, and George suddenly feels a tugging in his chest. He looks over the horizon, somehow knowing exactly where it is he needs to go. But to _where_ will he be headed, if he follows his instinct? Was it merely a migrational pattern? Would it lead him home, or away from it?

George isn’t sure. But because he has no other destination, he follows his gut and flies. And maybe he should be scared. Maybe he’s terrified, and he just doesn’t know it.

All he knows is that the world is beautiful, and he wants to explore every edge of it.

🐦

George certainly wasn’t regretting his decision. He’s probably flown several miles by now, traveling at speeds he’d never be able to accomplish as a human, and saying he was loving it would be an understatement. Words couldn’t _describe_ these out-of-body experiences he was having.

George thought green would be his last surprise, but he’s quickly proven wrong. Having descended upon a mesh of light-colored flowers near the forest floor, George had been _blown away_ by the sight of pink and purple. They were just so… _bright. Pretty_. George had stared at the flowers for ages, ingraining their beauty into his brain. It was only when he heard shuffling in a nearby brush that he darted back into the sky.

From his bird’s eye view, George has detected a number of other wild animals. He’s sight-seen all sorts of interesting creatures, from deer to badgers, and bears to moose. It was like visiting a zoo, without needing to pay for the ticket. George perches a couple times to watch them, and since he’s just a bird, they don’t care enough to run away. It was every environmental scientist’s dream.

And the tugging in George’s chest continues to string him along, guiding his wings towards the horizon. As the day draws to an end, the setting sun creates a warm glow along the edge of the world, and George almost drops out of the sky from shock. Sunsets were so _beautiful_. It was so much more than what George expected. The orange and red ridges, dappled with the warm glow of the setting sun, slowly dripping away until the sky became a dark blanket of stars. George was sad to see it go.

Having been flying all day, George is reasonably tired. He quickly finds himself a crook inside of a thicker tree, and settling himself into the cozy hole, he tucks his head in and goes to sleep.

🐦

So, George is an idiot.

When George wakes up the next day, he feels a _pang_ in his chest and he realizes: he flew who knows how many miles yesterday, and didn’t eat a single bite of food.

In summary, George was hungry. So he goes searching for sustenance.

George knows what birds eat. Nuts, insects, seeds. They’re definitely omnivores, if the unpicky nature of scavenging seagulls was anything to go by.

Now the question was _how_ to obtain food. George doesn’t have the foggiest clue where he’s supposed to look. He’s in a _forest_ , but he hasn’t found anything worth eating yet. There’s no fruits hanging from trees, no berries living on bushes, no homing instinct that can help George figure out how to track or locate a bug.

And to make things more complicated… as George had been hunting around for things to eat, the bushes had suddenly rustled and a goddamn _wolf_ just had to appear. Completely without warning. It had crept up on him like a silent assassin, light-green eyes sizing George up like he was a three-course meal.

George lets out an undignified squawk before flapping away, quick to search for safety among the tree branches. He has no idea if wolves actually hunt birds, but he certainly isn’t gonna wait around to find out (especially if its disappointed look was anything to go by). Casting one last glance at the grey-pelted wolf, and shivering at the sight of its intelligent eyes, George had quickly flown off, deciding to search somewhere else.

But George is on-guard now. So whenever he descends to the ground to go poking around for food, the bushes will rustle and George will immediately be sent flying back to the treetops, only to see another wolf emerging from the brush. It was honestly quite concerning. How was George continuously getting interrupted by wolves? Was there a pack in the area?

Temporarily putting his search on-hold, George had soared above the treetops to scan the forest beneath him. The branches all tangle together quite closely, but if George looks closely, he can sort of see through them. And he quickly realizes, no, there is not a wolf pack.

There was just _one_ wolf. And that lone wolf was the cause for all the frequent interruptions. It was pretty disconcerting. Was the wolf _following_ George? It’d explain how they keep bumping into each other, but the idea is unsettling. Why would a wolf follow him, unless it wanted to eat him?

George recalls the hungry look in the wolf’s eyes and decides that he’s not safe. He sucks up all his remaining energy and decides he’ll need to fly as far away from this wolf as possible.

🐦

So George finds a carcass.

George had seen the body from his high vantage point, and promptly gone to investigate. The animal hasn’t been dead for long, if the heat on its pelt is anything to go by. Normally, George would be disgusted at the thought of eating raw flesh. However… his raven stomach is screaming at him, so he figures he doesn’t have much of a choice.

But despite drawing up the courage to eat the animal, of course more problems had to arise. George had experimentally pecked at the corpse, only to realize that his beak can’t even pierce the hide. His weak attacks did nothing against the animal’s outer skin, and after several minutes of desperate poking, George gave up. It required too much energy George didn’t have, and he was still _hungry_. The free food in front of him was basically a taunt at this point.

But suddenly, George remembers something. And he has an idea. And maybe it was a stupid idea, but George figures he might as well try. What does he have to lose?

He takes back to the sky and retraces his footsteps (or wingflaps, whichever it would be for a bird). It doesn’t take him very long, because his hunch was right: the wolf is still following him. Or is, in the very least, traveling in the same direction as George.

George lowers himself onto a branch, cawing loudly at the wolf. The animal looks up in surprise, its eyes sort of wide, George thinks. Standing there, all alone in the forest, George suddenly realizes how small the wolf is. He’s not a cub, nowhere close to that really, but he’s not a large wolf either. Maybe like… a young adult wolf, or something.

George caws again and flaps to a branch further away, hoping the wolf will follow him like it’s been doing the whole day. To his relief, the wolf pads over in his direction. So George keeps leading the way, speeding up when he’s sure the wolf is on his tail, and the two pelt through the forest at record speeds.

Finally they stumble back upon the carcass. George is relieved it hasn’t been found by another carnivore yet. Just as George had planned, the wolf wastes no time in ripping the carcass apart with its teeth, easily tearing through the hide George had struggled so futilely with. Now he just had to wait his turn like a true scavenger, and hope the predator would leave something behind for him.

Except, the wolf does something funny. He tears out a chunk from the corpse and, walking purposefully to the base of the tree in which George is perched, places the piece down and looks up at him. George tilts his head, watching in confusion as the dog returns to the main carcass to eat his portion.

Which was just weird, that George was being given a portion at all. He doesn’t watch Animal Planet, but even _he_ knows what just happened was… weird, to say the least. After a few seconds of hesitance where he debated on whether or not the gift was a trap, his grumbly stomach won out. 

A flutter of feathers later, and George is on the ground, defenseless and unprotected. But the wolf doesn’t pounce on him. He just meaningfully looks his way (and… fucking _nods??_ No, George must’ve imagined that.) and resumes eating.

So George eats too. And it’s not as bad as he expected. More than anything, he’s just happy his stomach will finally stop complaining all the time.

When he’s just about eaten his fill, George notices the sun is going down again. He flaps to the top of a tree to enjoy the colors, quietly reflecting on his day. When night sets and George returns from his post, it takes a while to find him, but he eventually pinpoints that the wolf has curled in on himself under some bushes and gone to sleep.

For some reason, the sight makes him satisfied. Was this how “mutualism” worked? He remembers learning some shit like that in his highschool bio classes. George would be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

George finds himself his own cubby in the bark and settles in, deciding that, at least for now, it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea to stick around with such a useful little hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea had been nagging me for awhile! 'Cuz you know, George is a ravenclaw and Dream was George's pet wolf in that one video—   
> Anyway. I hope you all look forward to the coming chapters! ^^


	2. 🐺

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream had originally followed the raven because it looked stupid.

Dream had originally followed the raven because it looked stupid.

To put it simply, Dream was hungry. He’s _been_ hungry, ever since he turned into a wolf, and while he’s definitely annoyed by that reality, he hadn’t had much time to dwell on it. He was being eaten away from the inside-out, and if he didn’t find food soon, he was going to _die_.

(Maybe an exaggeration. But Dream is dramatic.)

His first day scavenging around was an uneventful one, even with Dream’s heightened sense of smell. Birds were too agile to catch. Really, _most_ animals were incredibly good at detecting movement. Bushes will usually rustle and animals will run before Dream can even catch wind of them. And it’s not because Dream’s a bad hunter, because despite being human previously, he does _have_ wolf instincts.

What’s wrong is that he’s become color-blind.

And everything looks the fucking _same_. All the grass, all the leaves, all the trees are the same color: yellow. Dull yellow, dark yellow, bright yellow. The only thing that stands out is the sky, a pretty blue painted across the forest ceiling. But everything else? Exactly the fucking same.

And Dream couldn’t see shit.

It was hardly fair, Dream thought. Wolves were supposed to hunt in packs. Then what was Dream doing here, all alone and without company? How was he _expected_ to find anything, with zero hunting experience?

And just as he was thinking this, he had stumbled into a clearing and saw it: a defenseless black bird, a color that finally stood out from all the yellows, yellows, and more yellows. The raven had, unfortunately, noticed Dream’s clumsy presence and promptly flown away, but the fact that it _hadn’t_ detected Dream until they were only meters apart… it was promising.

So Dream tailed the raven, following the sound of its wingbeats. Even if he loses sight of the bird, it never flies far, taking frequent trips to the ground and putting itself in danger. Dream knows its always the same raven, since there’s an odd (but iconic) white stripe between its eyes. It was probably looking for food, just like Dream. Dream would probably sympathize, if his stomach wasn’t complaining so much.

And Dream would crouch and lower himself, trying to get close without being detected, but the bird was probably on-guard now or something, because he never lets Dream get close enough to pounce. Dream mentally berates himself for wasting the opportunity during their first meeting. After several more failed attempts, the raven appears fed-up with Dream’s stalking, because it quickly flies off and Dream can’t catch up no matter how hard he tries.

Dream’s run slows to a trot as the hunger gnaws all the more strongly inside of him. No doubt his reckless chasing had scared off all the prey in the area. He was such a goddamn idiot. What was he even supposed to do now?

Dream doesn’t know. Maybe he should stop and conserve his energy, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to _feel_ like he’s making progress towards something. _Anything_.

So he keeps trodding along, down the same route the raven had flown (though he honestly doubted he’d ever see the bird again). He was walking for the sheer purpose of walking, of hoping he’ll _get_ somewhere. When he tries to ignore the hunger, he can actually feel a bit of a tug inside of his mind, like he needs to go somewhere. It’s a familiar feeling, like the kind of tug you feel when you need to remember your way home. Dream doubts its “home” he’s headed towards, but perhaps it was an instinct that’d lead him back to his pack? Dream hopes so.

A loud bird call snaps Dream out of his thoughts, and he stares irritably at the fowl perched above him, only to do a double-take as he sees the unmistakable white stripe.

The raven was back. But why?

The bird caws again, and flies a short distance away, perching itself on another branch. It isn’t flying away, like last time. Did it _want_ Dream to follow it? 

Wondering what the black bird would have in store for him, Dream promptly follows, the raven taking the lead. It always makes sure to stay in sight, confirming Dream’s suspicions about it leading him somewhere. After a couple minutes, a tantalizing smell makes its way up to Dream’s nose. Could it be…? His pace quickens. Dream bursts through the bushes and his brain lights up in delight when he finally sees it: an animal corpse, a darker yellow camouflaged beneath shrubs.

Dream doesn’t waste a second, quickly tearing away into the meat with his sharp teeth. It _looks_ gross, sure, but to his wolf senses it’s _fantastic_. _Delicious_. Dream pauses for a second, looking around for the raven. Sure enough, it’s waiting on a nearby tree, pensively watching Dream. For a moment, Dream feels bad. Hadn’t it been searching for food all day too?

And against the better judgement of his wolf instincts to eat and take everything he can, Dream defies common sense. He tears away a piece and places it underneath the raven’s branch as an offer of thanks. The bird doesn’t move at first. Only when Dream returns to his meal does the raven descend upon the chunk, feverishly tearing at the food.

So the two feast on their respective meals, and Dream figures he’s reasonably satisfied with the outcome, though it was no doubt an odd one. Who would’ve thought he, a predator of many, would end up getting help from some small bird? It was almost laughable. But Dream is grateful, nonetheless.

Chewing away the last bits of meat stuck to the carcass’s bones, the hunger in Dream’s stomach fades away. With the stress of his hunger gone, Dream now felt the tugging towards “home” to be stronger than ever. 

But he couldn’t follow that tug now. Night had descended and the raven had long disappeared, having finished his meal before Dream. Dream would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed. It had finally felt like he had a friend, but maybe it had been too much of him to expect the companionship to last. Dream was merely a tool that had served his purpose, and now he was alone again.

At least he wasn’t hungry anymore. Dream tries to focus on the positives as he hides himself between two bushes, settling his head onto his paws. He needs to rest and save his energy, because tomorrow he’ll officially be chasing after the tugging in his chest.

Dream blinks himself awake to sunlight filtering through the leaves. He does the wolf-equivalent of a yawn and shakes the leaves out of his fur, stepping back out in the open, and he promptly freezes. The same raven is still there, perched on a branch above him. It caws in greeting when it sees Dream, fanning open its wings.

Dream isn’t sure how to explain it, but he feels… happy. Relieved. His partner didn’t leave him, even when he had every right and reason to do so.

It was still super weird though. Dream knows he probably looks pretty stupid, staring at that raven with his jaw dropped open like an idiot. The bird, on the other hand, appears unaffected by Dream’s response. It only ruffles its feathers, flying a short distance away. Dream realizes with surprise that it’s the same direction as the tugging.

How did it know…?

It has to just be a coincidence, Dream thinks. Either way, he’s just happy with this new turn of events, because now he has a companion.

🐺

They pass by a lot more animals, but most are too big for Dream to take down, and he’s not exactly too trusting of his hunting skills either. So Stripe finds them another carcass, this time of a small rabbit.

Dream has taken to calling the raven “Stripe,” since referring to it as “the bird” was starting to get tiring. The thin white line between his eyes, almost like a glasses ridge, was the only feature of Stripe that stood out. It looks kind of dumb on him, but Dream is secretly glad it’s there. He’s not entirely sure how he’d identify the bird otherwise.

Dream shares a portion of the prey again, as his apology for being a crappy hunter. This time Stripe waits on the ground for him, as if _expecting_ a share, appearing much more careless about how close they are to each other. Dream huffs at the raven’s insolent behavior, making some half-assed joke in his head about saving Stripe for emergency rations. 

They finish their meals and proceed on their way (still in the same direction as the tugging), Dream fast-walking and Stripe flapping from tree to tree. Not only a few minutes later, they stumble upon a sizable lake. Too big to be a pond, but also small enough that Dream could swim across if he so chooses to.

Stripe flies down to the water’s edge to drink before cocking his head at Dream (in an eerily human fashion), as if waiting to see which path Dream would decide on. Dream knows the right choice is to just walk around the lake. He’s been a wolf for only a couple days, and he’s not entirely sure he knows how to swim with four legs.

He experimentally places a paw in the water and drinks as well, and it’s… refreshing. The water laps around his paws, a cool but pleasant sensation on his fur. Dream is reminded of the dust and grime that must be covering his pelt from walking through the forest and burrowing under bushes at night. Surely it’d do him some good to have a makeshift-bath?

Stripe’s attention returns to the water, and Dream suddenly has an idea. He dips his paw into the water and playfully splashes it in the bird’s direction. Stripe’s surprised squawks and panicked flapping makes Dream bark out in laughter. He tries to splash the raven again but it quickly flutters away, as if detecting Dream’s plans. A shame — the dumb bird had too good of an intuition.

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to annoy his only comrade, seeing how much Dream wanted to actually keep his new friend, but being annoying was just in his nature, so. Dream thinks he can cut himself a break.

Dream steps into the water, submerging his lower-half. Water pools around him, clinging to his fur and weighing him down. It’s not that cold to his surprise, probably because of his thick coat. He moves his paws further in until the ground falls away under him, and suddenly he’s floating. He feels helpless at first, kicking his legs wildly, but Dream eventually gets the hang of it, slightly pointing his snout upwards as he drifts along. At least he isn’t sinking…?

Dream isn’t really sure how to turn himself around, so he keeps paddling forwards and just hopes that Stripe is following him. Tiny fish in the water flick away when Dream draws too close. About a minute of swimming later, the sound of flapping can be heard and Stripe appears above, circling over Dream’s head. Dream feels a little sliver of relief.

The other side is approaching much quicker than Dream had expected. In just another minute, Dream’s paws can feel the ground again. Stripe lands on the ground ahead as Dream climbs out of the water, his fur dripping wet. It feels so _heavy_. With a quick shake of his body, Dream flings droplets out of his pelt. Stripe squawks when it showers down on him and Dream chuckles. The bird _was_ an idiot after all, for not learning his lesson.

Dream can still feel moisture clinging to him, but he’s overall grown lighter. The dirt and grime were all washed away now, leaving only a refreshed feeling. It invigorated him. This felt like a new start — a fresh beginning.

But this time Dream has a friend. And as they descend back into the forest, with Stripe leading the way, Dream thinks they make a pretty good pair. The bird puts up with Dream’s shit, and Dream helps them harvest the meat they find. Now, he can only hope that this camaraderie will last. 

But until how long? Surely they would have to split at some point. Maybe once Dream got “home,” or perhaps once Stripe had reached his own destination (at least, seeing how intent he was in flying in this one, same direction). It’s inevitable really, but it still leaves a lonely little feeling inside him. Which is dumb, since he hasn’t even known Stripe all that long. Maybe it’s because he’s the closest thing to a friend Dream has got since becoming a wolf.

Dream shakes his head to dispel the thoughts. It was pointless worrying about it. What would happen would happen. It was better to focus on the now and the present.

And right now, Dream isn’t lonely. So that’s that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh this is so hard to write because there's no dialogue— T-T


	3. 🍂

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A WOLF was simping for a BIRD. 
> 
> Unbelievable.

Leaf acts incredibly nonchalant towards George’s clingy behavior. Maybe _too_ nonchalant, for a wolf that had previously been so intent on hunting him down.

George had to debate over several names (Gray, Teal, Wolfie) before settling on Leaf. Those observant eyes were, after all, what stood out most to George. A stark contrast to his silver coat, a shade not so different from the forest leaves, and George had felt inclined to lean in that direction. 

So yeah. The two are travel buddies. George isn’t sure how to explain how it happened it either. With all the incessant tugging in his chest, George thought he’d had to eventually split paths with Leaf, and yet… it still hasn’t happened. 

Most of the time, George _is_ the one leading the way. They need to take frequent breaks sometimes, because George flies too fast and Leaf can’t run as long. But after resting, Leaf will sometimes start moving before George does, still headed in the direction that George needs to go. The wolf must be pretty smart, if it’s somehow recognized that George is going in a specific direction. George is also grateful that Leaf doesn’t seem to mind following where George is going. 

It’s sort of weird, George thinks, that he bothers to wait up for Leaf at all. Surely, this whole trip would just be faster if he flew off by himself. But he also just can’t bring himself to leave Leaf behind. He convinces himself it’s because he needs to have a reliable way to gather food. Yeah, that was it.

About a day later, Leaf finally catches his own prey without George’s guidance. He’d crept up towards an unsuspecting rabbit and managed to pounce on it, successfully capturing it with his jaws. 

Compared to the size of Leaf, the prey was minuscule. It probably constituted only a fraction of a fraction of a meal for a medium-sized wolf. It wasn’t much, and that was all the more reason George didn’t expect any share of the spoils.

Except… Leaf still tore off a chunk and was offering it to George??

It was _so_ weird. George had cawed at Leaf, trying to convey the fact that he didn’t need it, but no matter how hard he bird-called, Leaf wouldn’t touch the food. Only when George started pecking at his scraps did the wolf swallow his own portion in one mouthful.

It was so weird.

 _Leaf_ was so weird.

Were all wolves like this? Maybe pack wolves do this for each other, and Leaf considered George as part of his pack?

That conclusion made the most sense, but it still didn’t cover up the fact that a _wolf_ was simping for a _bird_. Unbelievable, George thinks. Maybe there was a sense of duty in these actions, of needing to return a favor.

So once Leaf felt that the debt was repaid, would he leave?

George doesn’t really want to think about it.

George has long since dismissed the idea that Leaf might eat him. The wolf has had plenty of chances to do so, and certainly had no reason to share his meals, and yet here they were. Though the initial plan was to stay a good distance away from the carnivore, George would sometimes make an exception and fly to the ground. Even still, Leaf never made any move to pounce. He only sits and watches George’s movements, tail flickering with interest, eyes glinting ever so brightly.

Out of curiosity (or maybe a death-wish), George has attempted to test the capacity of this indifferentness. During a meal, he’ll hop towards Leaf’s food, standing disturbingly close to the wolf’s jaws. It was scary at first, since it felt like walking straight into a trap, but of course Leaf doesn’t bite his head off. It was the expected response.

George then softly pecks at Leaf’s paws. There is a reaction this time, but not a violent one. Leaf simply raises his paw and gently swats George away. The carefulness in which he did it makes George melt a little. Leaf _really_ didn’t want to hurt him, much less eat him. That was reassuring.

George suddenly has a neat idea. Taking his experimentation a bit farther, he flies into the air and lands directly on Leaf’s back. 

The wolf is reasonably confused at first. He turns his head as if trying to catch sight of George, turning circles like a dog chasing its tail. It was hilarious.

And then it became a war of attrition. Leaf began to violently shake his body and George had to cling on for dear life, the claws on his bird feet digging into the fur (but he made sure not to do it too hard). The force of the swinging was too much though, and George was sent flying off the wolf’s back.

For a moment, Leaf had won. He’d huffed and returned to his meal, like the battle was over. But George was still suspended in the air and so, with a simple twist of his wings, he was back on Leaf’s back again.

This struggle for George’s position on Leaf’s back continued for several more minutes, with Leaf running circles and rubbing against trees to try to shake George off of him. They were good ploys, sure, but every departure of George’s would only lead to his inevitable return. Leaf put up a good fight, but eventually one of them had to admit defeat. And, not to brag or anything, but… 

George was 100% the victor. And as he sat there, perfectly content upon Leaf’s head, George felt like he was right at home.

🐦

George had started getting the hang of being a raven. First, he found out that a bird could do so much more than just _fly_. George had spent many hours experimenting with his capacity for flight, twisting and turning in the air, diving and swooping. He’s gotten good enough to the point where he can drop something mid-air, and still catch it with his beak before it hits the ground. Leaf usually watches as George practices, his ears flickering with piqued interest (and perhaps a hint of amusement, but George can’t be sure).

Second, George finally figured out how to detect food. Turns out all it took to catch insects was a patient mind and a watchful eye. With George’s newfound skill in flying, he could easily snatch bugs from mid-air, or swipe a grub seconds before it’s burrowed away to safety. These last couple days in the forest, George has also seen a _huge_ variety of plants, all with different seeds, nuts, and berries. He’s learned to identify them, and now knows what to look for when searching for sustenance.

In summary, he adapted to his skill-set, utilized it, and was now more than capable of hunting for himself. In summary, food was no longer a problem for George.

In summary, George didn’t need Leaf anymore.

When George realized this, it had made him uneasy. Was that the right way to put it? He’s not sure how to explain the queasy feeling he gets, when he considers leaving Leaf behind. Wasn’t the whole point of their partnership to attain food? Now that the reason for that camaraderie is no longer necessary, George is free to leave. With his speed, he could reach his destination _ages_ earlier. It’d be stupid and illogical to hang around with some random wolf that’d just slow him down.

George doesn’t know what to do. He flaps down for a moment, carefully landing on Leaf’s back, and the wolf’s sprint slows to a trot. He tilts his snout upwards, silently recognizing his presence, and George feels his heart squeeze. There’s a tingle of familiarity between them, from having spent so many days traveling together, and George decides:

He’s not leaving Leaf behind.

Leaf wasn’t just _some random_ wolf. Leaf was Leaf. George doubted any other wolf would wheeze when he does dumb shit, or have play-fights while being careful not to hurt George, or let him sit on their head. Only Leaf would do that, because he’s smart, and he has intelligent green eyes, and because… they’re friends.

And George likes the color green. So he stays.

🐦

As usual, George had been perched on Leaf’s back. These days when they travel, George has taken to sitting there instead of flying since it’s less energy-consuming. Leaf slows down when George is on his back, like he knows his friend will get flung off if he runs. This, in result, just creates a chain of productivity loss. George knows they’re not getting to his destination any faster like this, but he can’t help it. He likes knowing that Leaf trusts him enough to let him sit on his back, likes the friendly companionship they share, despite being such different creatures. Like some sort of “defy-all-odds” sort of duo.

Sue George for being cheesy, but it was still true.

They continue forward at a reasonable pace, making a good deal of progress despite their slower efforts. But then, George had suddenly seen it. Up ahead, flashes of grey pelts appear from behind the brushes. With a terrified squawk, he had leapt off of Leaf’s back and pelted for the trees.

And just in time too. The instant he had reached safety, the bushes rustled and what George had seen revealed themselves. _Wolves_. And a whole pack of them, too. For a moment, George is worried — was this Leaf’s pack? Had he perhaps been traveling in this direction to reunite with his family?

But Leaf crouches, baring his teeth into a snarl, and George realizes he was wrong. A flutter of relief settles in George’s mind, that Leaf won’t be leaving him just yet.

The pack of wolves also snarl back with raised hackles, but they don’t make any move to attack. Was it a warning of some sort? George realizes suddenly that they might have entered these wolves’ territory, or were at least on the edge of it. Seeing another carnivore, they had assumed Leaf would come to steal their prey.

Leaf gets the hint, thankfully. He crouches low, taking a couple steps back. The pack takes a couple steps forward. This pattern repeats, with the pack of wolves slowly edging Leaf away until a certain threshold. When they finally seem satisfied with the distance of Leaf’s retreat, they stop advancing. 

With a flick of his tail, Leaf turns and runs away. George casts one last glance at the wolves guarding their territory before flying after his friend. He catches up quickly, and only when Leaf stops running does George make a bird-call, gracefully landing on the ground. Leaf looks happy to see him, though George thinks it’s strange Leaf can recognize him at all. If there were two ravens in front of him, for example, would the wolf even know which was George?

Anyway, they had other problems now. The tugging inside of George is still steady as ever, but it’s pointing directly into the wolf pack’s territory. For George, simply flying through would’ve been no problem. But with Leaf here as well, things were so much more complicated. If only George could just _leave_ him behind…

But… George shakes his head at himself. _No_. He had already decided he was gonna stick with his new friend. He wasn’t going to forego such a promise just because _one_ issue popped up. They’d figure this out together, even if George isn’t sure where to lead them.

Because after all, Leaf was _smart_. He _knows_ the direction George is headed in. And since he’s so intent on following that direction, he’ll surely know the right path to lead them around the territory and get them back on track.

Leaf’s snout is pointed to the ground, already experimentally sniffing (for scent marks, George guesses). With a decisive flap, he lands on Leaf’s back again, nestling in his silver fur. Time to give up responsibility, he supposes — it was the wolf’s turn to lead the way now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally got closer~ ^_^


	4. 🐾

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream can only watch in shocked silence as the raven disappears into the trees below. Did...
> 
> Did he just get ditched?

Seeing his own brethren didn’t make him excited.

Maybe he shouldn’t have growled. Maybe he and the other wolves could’ve even been friends, if he just tried to show he didn’t mean any harm. But seeing them, Dream’s first reaction had been to assert his dominance, so to speak. If Dream had a pack, these wolves weren’t them. So why should he show friendliness?

_Maybe because you’re outnumbered, idiot. Maybe because then you wouldn’t need to walk around their territory like a fool._

Dream had actually smelled the scent marks a few minutes prior to the encounter, and though it had definitely seemed strange, he hadn’t _known_ what the scent was. So the compass in his mind led him to carelessly stumble straight into territory belonging to another pack, and after making a fool of himself, he was now forced to walk around on the outskirts of it. 

Stripe, despite disappearing quite quickly at the sight of the wolves, had returned when Dream had ran far away enough from them. For maybe a second, Dream was worried Stripe would try leading them back into the forbidden territory, but to his relief, the bird merely settles on Dream’s back and makes himself at home. Maybe Stripe was smarter than he let on, Dream decides, carefully padding through the forest as to not cause the raven to slip off.

Stripe is an odd bird — he trusts Dream too much. _Way_ too much. Dream can definitely picture a fowl dancing around a predator, but surely no _sane_ bird would ever try what Stripe was trying now. Especially not a wild animal, something with no reason to form a permanent attachment to any sort of creature (much less a _wolf_ ).

But, who knows? Ravens are supposedly “clever” creatures. Maybe all ravens were like Stripe, and Dream just hasn’t met enough of them to figure it out.

A wolf’s sense of smell is surprisingly useful. It’s so much better than his human-self’s ability, so informative that it feels like a map is being low-key drawn in his head. Sometimes, Dream thinks his sense of smell is even more useful than his shitty wolf-sight. He basically smells his way through the forest, pointing his snout to tree bark and medium-sized rocks to catch whiffs of the pack’s scent. He steers clear of their border, in order to avoid possible confrontations or misunderstandings.

After jumping over a particularly large root, Dream stops in his tracks. He… was standing on a man-made trail. In the very least, it was very obvious the cleared-out section wasn’t natural, most likely worn-down by human trampling. Stripe, sensing that Dream has stopped, gives a quiet but curious caw.

A hum of excitement grows in Dream’s chest at this find. If he traveled along this path, or maybe just waited, he’d eventually come face to face with a human being. And then…

...then what? Then nothing. Dream couldn’t communicate with people. His presence would only scare them. ‘Course, he could try spelling out a message in the dirt, or attempt rearranging leaves to form some letters. But what could he even say? SOS? “Help”? Neither were specific enough to let others understand the bizzarity of Dream’s situation.

Feeling mildly irritated at the lost opportunity to form contact, Dream crosses the trail and reenters the forest. He’ll just keep following the tugging instead. No time to get side-tracked.

Dream assumes they must be long past the pack’s territory now, if there were signs of human-interference this close in proximity. Unless… it was an old trail, and this area was deserted now? That could also be a possibility. Dream reminds himself not to let his guard down just yet.

About maybe an hour later, the trees start to thin out in Dream’s peripheral. It’s a little off-course from his destination, but Dream is curious about it so he bounds over to have a look. His paws bring him to a grassy clearing, a place where he can see everything, a cliff raised high above the world. Dream can feel Stripe shuffling on his back, craning his head to get a better look.

Because before them, a patch of roofs and roads hiding underneath the cliff-face, is a human civilization.

Faced again with the possibility of human interaction — it was as if the world were teasing Dream. It was irritating, but Dream had already made up his mind to not interfere with people. He’s just about to turn and leave, when Stripe hops off from his back, cawing in his direction. Dream tilts his head, confused at the raven’s behavior. Was it trying to say something? Stripe ruffles his feathers and, after a single dip of his head, he’s launched himself off the cliff, flying straight towards the village.

Dream can only watch in shocked silence as the raven disappears into the trees below. Did… did he just get _ditched?_ Dream isn’t sure, but it sure looked like it. Having dove off the edge of a cliff, the raven must’ve known Dream couldn’t follow him. Maybe Stripe had been trying to say goodbye with those last few squawks of his. Perhaps it had been his plan all along, to hitch a ride with Dream until he reached a suitable human civilization to mooch off of. Ravens were scavengers after all, just like seagulls. They _thrived_ from human scraps.

Dream feels used. Which is stupid, because he _let_ Stripe ride on him and travel with him, so how can he blame anyone but himself? He expected too much, and now he was disappointed. It was only natural.

But, maybe he’s jumping to conclusions too quickly. Dream ponders hopefully, pacing along the edge of the cliff-face. Maybe if he waits a little, Stripe will come back, and all his worrying will have been for nothing. Dream settles his belly to the ground, crossing his paws and tucking his head onto them. He’ll try to be patient.

...even if he already kind of misses the black bird.

Dream watches the town, out of boredom. Every once in a while, he can see flickers of movement from vehicles driving around or people walking down sidewalks. Dream pictures Stripe down there, flying from trashcan to trashcan to look for scraps. That was what he was down there for, right? Dream can’t imagine any other reason why the raven would’ve felt the need to so urgently fly away like he did.

As the minutes tick away, Dream starts to feel anxious again. Is he being stupid for waiting? This is a _bird_ they’re talking about, after all. Just some random fowl Dream happened to stumble upon in a forest. Wild birds have no loyalty, no attachments, no reason to partner up with a wolf. Why would Stripe even feel the need to return? It was illogical to _expect_ anything.

But Dream reminds himself that Stripe isn’t like every other bird. The raven wasn’t scared of him. It purposefully picks fights to annoy him, and seems to enjoy it. Stripe trusts him enough to even get close to Dream’s mouth. So many times, Dream could’ve snapped his jaws over Stripe and that would’ve been the end of it. Surely, the raven was smart enough to know that.

But there’s another pestering feeling Dream feels. That recognition, that Stripe is headed… _somewhere_. Perhaps a migrational pattern. Or perhaps to lead Dream? Dream likes that thought, that maybe Stripe is a mystical being secretly aware of Dream’s true identity, guiding the way for him. Either way, Dream knows how intently Stripe had followed their route, always diligently flying in the same direction. 

So, there’s no way Stripe wouldn’t come back. They had places to go, after all.

And much to Dream’s relief, his thought process appeared to have been correct. About maybe an hour later, a black dot is flying back up the cliff. Stripe, with his unmistakable little white feature, drops an apple on the ground right in front of him.

Dream looks up, blinking owlishly as Stripe lands and caws at him. He looks… proud. Dream can’t help the little affectionate growl that spurs in the back of his throat. (It was kind of hard to explain — perhaps it was something like a cat’s purr? How embarrassing.) Still, it was good to see Stripe again.

Amazed at the raven’s ability to bring back an _entire goddamn apple_ (how did he even _find_ that?), Dream digs in. Two chomps later, and the fruit has been reduced to smithereens inside Dream’s mouth. It’s… good. Juicy. His wolf senses prickle in dissatisfaction, but his human ones are enjoying the sensation. 

Dream nods once at Stripe to indicate his thanks, though it takes him a second to realize the raven won’t be able to understand him. So Dream opts instead to give the bird a gentle nudge with his snout. Stripe squawks (as expected), fluttering onto Dream’s back so that he can’t be affectionate anymore. Dream gives a little wheeze at the behavior, turning away from the cliff-face to return to the forest.

Stripe’s little side-quest was over. It was time to get back on track, just the two of them.

🐺

It’s already been two days, and unfortunately, Dream hasn't eaten anything since Stripe’s apple.

Dream had been pretty careless about… everything. He doesn’t really watch out for prey as carefully as he used to, relying too much on Stripe’s ability to find food for them like a mini-compass. He also doesn’t care enough about his energy usage, recklessly jumping over logs or ducking between bushes to mess around with Stripe in their dumb little mini-games. The result? He was starting to get hungry. And there was no food in sight.

The carcasses they’d found were starting to look like a lucky fluke. Not matter how far they travel, they just aren’t finding any suitable prey. There’ll be the occasional mouse or squirrel, but those creatures are usually too small and slippery for Dream. He kind of wonders if it might have something to do with the wolf pack hogging all the best hunting territory. Dream would have more luck if he could just _find_ a larger animal, but no such luck.

Stripe has been spending increased amounts of time away from Dream, and he knows why. The raven was trying to utilize his ability of flight to search a wider area to find animals for Dream to eat. Dream was secretly quite touched by this, that the bird could not only recognize that Dream was hungry, but was also willing to help. He was really a smart bird after all. And a good friend.

Dream looks forward to the raven’s returns, thinking _surely_ a bird would have better luck than him at detecting stuff. But Stripe always comes back empty-handed, not a hint of excitement in his flaps, landing on Dream’s back in defeat. Dream can’t blame him for failing to find anything. At least his companion tried to help.

Dream knows Stripe isn’t starving, at least. He’s seen the bird dive at trees and peck at plants before, so he knows Stripe must be keeping himself well-fed. It also helped that he was smaller in size, so less sustenance was required in general. Dream would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little jealous, but he’s pretty sure that’s just his stomach talking. He’s secretly quite relieved that only one of them has to go through these hunger pangs.

Dream isn’t doing too terribly though. What was a few days of hunger, anyway? What matters is that he has a friend and a destination. Without either, Dream feels like he’d have lost motivation long ago.

With determination coursing through his veins, Dream keeps pushing forward, because all he can feel is the hope of things getting better.

...Little does he know, there was still plenty of potential for things to get worse.


	5. 🐻

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George doesn’t know when it happened, but he’s started to care about Leaf. A lot.

George doesn’t know when it happened, but he’s started to care about Leaf. A lot.

Probably because they’ve been buddies for so long already. George can’t help but feel responsible for Leaf’s well-being as much as his own. They’re in this together, and they always have been, ever since George’s second day as a raven. They share everything.

Well, minus that one time George brought Dream an apple from the town. He’d actually snatched it directly from an apple-stand outside, and though it’d been hell to carry, he managed because of its smaller size.

Speaking of the town — other than finding some scraps from public trash cans, George had actually visited the civilization with the hopes of finding some clue about their whereabouts. He’d investigated signs and street names, identifying races and listening for accents. In the end, all he could conjure was that he was no longer in Britain.

Which was concerning news in itself. George silently prays that the tugging isn’t going to force him to cross an entire ocean to get back home or something. To make that kind of journey would totally _suck_ , with or without Leaf.

Anyway, like George had been saying: he cares a lot about Leaf. So of course he notices when the wolf hasn’t eaten for several days. George tries his best to search for herds that Leaf can hunt, but there’s never any in the vicinity (and George isn’t too keen on flying far away, afraid that he might lose Leaf).

Despite the hunger the carnivore must be going through, Leaf still humors George with their little play-fights. Lack of food certainly wasn’t stopping the wolf from being incredibly competitive. The two still engage in games of tag or hide-and-seek, usually ending it once George has lost or Leaf gives up. It’s usually the latter — such was the advantage of flight. 

George does try to be fair when he can though. He hovers near the ground in games of tag, to keep the game fun. It’s amusing watching the giant wolf chase him down, only to never catch up. George only ever gets caught when he’s off-guard, his cockiness getting the better of him.

Just like right now. Leaf had snuck up on him without notice and pounced, snout knocking awkwardly into George’s side. George squawked in surprise, tripping over his feathers to right himself as Leaf runs off in the distance, howling in success. 

George ruffles his wings and gives chase, pursuing the wolf. Leaf can be quite fast, nimble in the way he twists his body between tree trunks, but George is faster. Without the obstacles of roots or bushes to get in the way, George holds the advantage. In only a few seconds’ time, George manages to attach his claws onto Leaf’s back, cawing in success.

Leaf growls, spinning circles to fling George off, and George goes flying. It’s Leaf’s turn to be it again, he thinks smugly. He gives himself a head-start by flying up, listening attentively for the sound of leaves crinkling behind him as the wolf gives chase. But after about half a minute of flying, George pauses. He flaps onto a branch and listens, but there’s no sounds. Was Leaf planning some sort of sneak attack again?

George warily flies back a few paces, and sees something he missed while speeding away in their game of tag: a long ditch in the middle of the ground, made up of dirt and tree trunks, and a couple holes dug out in the sides of its walls. Leaf is standing right in the middle of it, no doubt having stumbled in from his haste in chasing George. He shakes out his fur as if to reorient himself, and George is about to fly down and check if the wolf is okay, but then he sees it.

A huge brown bear, lumbering out of a den that George had mistaken for convenient holes. In fact, this whole _pit_ was probably its home, and they just let themselves stumble right into it like idiots. Leaf visibly freezes at the sight of the intimidating omnivore, and George can guess why: their size difference is _massive_. In a fight, Leaf would be very unlikely to win. 

Leaf starts taking steps backwards, probably sizing up his chances of being able to leap out of the pit George had unintentionally dragged him into. Everything seems fine at first: the bear isn’t making any move to attack, and Leaf is nearing the edge of the ditch…

Then George detects a shadow of movement in another den, and he realizes he needs to take action. With a quick snap of his wings, George swoops to the den behind Leaf and swipes his claws at a second bear just as it’s raised its paw to attack. It roars in anger at George’s interference, rearing and swiping an arm in the air. It thuds against George’s right wing and pain streaks across his limb. He cries out as he struggles to right himself, feathers flying everywhere.

The first bear has started to make its move as well, his pace quickening towards them. Leaf deftly avoids the first swipe, then wastes no time in running down the opposite direction deeper into the ditch (but away from the dens). George somehow regains control of his wings and he tails the wolf, the bears furiously chasing them from behind.

Leaf skids to a stop and George almost crashes into him from surprise. The ditch… ends here. Just trails off the nearly vertical cliff into open air, leading to nothing below. Their only hope now would be to climb out of the ditch, but having run so far into it, the walls had only risen in height…

Panic overtakes him. This was George’s fault, so he needs to help Leaf get out of here. And even though George is deathly terrified, with a war cry of squawking, he charges back at the pursuing bears, swiping his claws at their faces and eyes. The one he has distracted roars in irritation, swiping his paws to knock George off-balance again. But there is a hole in George’s plan: the other one heads straight for Leaf, barreling towards the edge with no regard to its safety.

Right before reaching the edge, Leaf leaps out of the way, and rearing himself up on his hind legs, he uses his front paws to give the bear a shove. The bear gives a mighty roar as he tilts over the edge, one of its paws catching a blow to the side of Leaf’s head, and then he’s falling—

George doesn’t see what happens next, because the bear he’s occupying has suddenly struck a blow of his own right on George’s chest. Pain rockets through George’s center, and he cries out again as he’s thrown to the ground, feathers raking through dirt and rocks. _Ow,_ he grimaces, trying his best to fold his wing, but it doesn’t feel right? Why isn’t it folding like its supposed to? _What the fuck._ Everything hurts like hell.

George shuts his eyes, waits for the finishing blow of a furious bear. But it never comes. He hears roars and snarls, hears whistles of swipes and the gnashing of teeth, and then there’s a moist wetness encompassing him, and before George knows it, he’s getting carried away. The trip is rocky, and everything is gross and icky, but it only lasts for a minute. 

Leaf finally releases him from his jaws, worriedly prodding George in the side with his snout. George lets out his best bird-equivalent of a groan before rolling himself up on shaking legs. God, being in Leaf’s mouth was disgusting, but he knows it was the only choice the wolf had, so he’s grateful that Leaf was gentle with him.

At least they got away. George shakes his head, reorienting himself as he goes through a mental checklist. Not dead? Check. He can barely believe they made it out of that alive. Bears were terrifying, holy shit. Legs standing? Check, though still wobbly from post-fight fright. Left wing folded? Check. Battered but intact. Right wing…

Searing pain goes through George’s muscles, and he does a double-take. _Fuck_. His wing. His fucking wing is broken, or something. What the hell? How did _that_ happen? Did he land on the ground too hard or something?

George feebly hops around, trying to get a sense of balance with the awkward wing, but after rising a few inches off the ground he only goes crashing back into the ground again. Goddammit.

Leaf gives a worried whine, and George feels bad. Leaf had suffered too, having taken a blow to the head and several scratches down his side where blood had begun to clot his fur (and it looks much nastier with full color-vision). His stance is also tilted, as if one of his legs had gotten injured as well. It was all because George had been careless with their fun. If only he had been a good look-out, they could’ve avoided the encounter with the bear dens entirely.

Despite the state of Leaf’s injuries, he crouches down and offers his back, gently nudging George with his shoulder. George feels touched — he’s glad he has Leaf to rely on. Some awkward scrambling later, and he’s riding on Leaf’s back, just like old times.

And just like that, their trek continues.

At one point, George notices that Leaf had steered away from their route. They seem to be heading down the mountain, albeit the longer and safer way. It’s a weird detour and George wishes he could ask about it, but since his wing hurts and he trusts Leaf, he just lets the wolf do his own thing.

Maybe a couple hours later, and George finally understands what the trip was for. Lying at the base of the vertical cliff they had just been atop of, lies the corpse of the bear Leaf had shoved off the edge. As Leaf trots over and begins tearing at the meat, George feels a worm of relief. Finally after days of starving, Leaf could eat. And maybe it’d help speed up their recovery, too.

George clumsily slides off Leaf’s back to snatch a few morsels for himself. It’s mostly a meal just for Leaf though, his wagging tail betraying his clear content. George supposes this was the one good thing that came out from his careless choices, so he tries to not be too hard on himself.

And then to get back on track, Leaf had the job of climbing all the way back up the mountain. It was obviously much harder to go up than it was to go down. They’ve only made it halfway up before the sun was already beginning to set, coating them with the last dying rays of warmth before disappearing behind the mountains. 

Because George can’t fly away to roost on a branch like he usually does, he opts to nestle against Leaf, tucking himself into the wolf’s side. The carnivore doesn’t seem to mind, so they stay just like that for the night. It’s warm. And despite his severe restriction, and the fact that he should be afraid he can’t fly… George feels safe there. Like he can fall asleep without worrying about anything.

When sunrise comes back around, George pecks Leaf awake (much to the wolf’s disgruntled annoyance, though George can’t blame him since he knows he’s just riding off of him), and then they’re on their merry way again. 

With renewed energy (whether it be from the food or the sleep, George doesn’t know), they get back to the top in record time. Finally back on track, Leaf obediently starts following the correct path to George’s destination. But, maybe at this point it could be considered _their_ destination. They’re both in this together, after all.

George is glad he has Leaf. Though they met on strange terms, things really ended up for the best, and now? George really doesn’t know what he’d do without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original plan was for Dream to be the one to get injured so that he couldn't move, but things accidentally shifted and now it's George.  
> (It's okay though, him riding on Dream's back is cute <3 )


	6. 🌊

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Dream is so high alert, he notices before Stripe does: something is tailing them.

Dream’s pelt had been itching for days.

Ever since that day of the bear fight, the dry blood had been hanging off of Dream’s fur and it’d annoyed him. It also didn’t help that his skin underneath complained every time he walked, not to mention how he's been straggling around with a goddamn limp in every one of his steps. He knows one of the bears got a pretty deep scratch on one of his sides, but he couldn’t flee without saving Stripe. He couldn’t leave Stripe behind, who had tried so valiantly to buy Dream time to run away. The small injury was worth it.

Dream was slightly concerned it might get infected though, so he’s been looking for a lake or a pool of water for the past few days. Without the usual overhead help from Stripe’s navigational prowess, everything was up to Dream now. The path they traveled, the food they got, the breaks they took — Dream was in charge of it all.

He may be pushing himself a bit too hard, admittedly. There are times when he’ll walk for hours on end, and Stripe will need to start pecking the top of Dream’s skull or nibble at his ears in order to get him to stop for a break. The bird’s caring nature is amusing, almost, if it weren’t for the fact that it was so human. Dream is getting convinced more and more that Stripe can’t just be a regular old raven. He _had_ to be something more. The question then was just… what?

When Dream lies down to catch his breath, he can feel Stripe’s little feet digging into his back, his beak poking at random intervals in his fur. He’s not really sure what the bird is doing but it feels nice, sort of like a little massage. His pelt also always feels better after these excursions, lighter and less itchy, so he figures Stripe must be grooming him or something. The action made Dream’s chest light up with warmth for his friend.

Their quest continues, unfettered. Dream is now more careful in conserving his energy and looking out for potential dangers. He trots warily, ears and eyes on high alert at all times. It’d be a troublesome situation if Dream plopped the two of them in conflict and Stripe couldn’t get away. Dream quietly hopes that Stripe’s wing will heal soon. 

Because Dream is so high alert, he notices their pursuer before Stripe does. Something is tailing them, but Dream hasn’t figured out what yet. It’s always incredibly careful, following from a careful distance, never revealing itself. Dream thinks he catches sight of the creature’s fur one time, but because his eyesight is so shit he’s not even sure of the exact color.

What does it even _want_ from them? Dream half wants to go investigate the matter and figure out the animal’s motive in pursuing them, but frankly he hasn’t got the energy to. If the entity were dangerous, they would’ve struck already, but clearly they were only interested in spectating. Heck, confronting the creature head-on might actually spark more conflict than if Dream just left it alone, and Dream wasn’t willing to put Stripe through that.

At least it’s only one animal, and not a pack of wolves or a duo of bears. This was manageable. Dream convinces himself not to worry about it, reminds himself to be wary but take the safe route out. He has bigger fish to fry right now.

Namely, finding a water source. And finally they stumble across it: a full-fledged lake in the middle of the forest. It’s dozens of times wider than the first one Dream swam across, shining prettily underneath the sun’s rays. Stripe slides off Dream’s back to get a sip, and Dream follows suit, though always keeping an eye on the location of their sneaky pursuer.

But to Dream’s shock, the creature finally shows itself. Dark pointed ears, white snout and bushed tail, a fox stalks out of the forest greens. It looks neither red nor orange, so Dream knows it’s not his fault he couldn’t tell what it was just by its fur color. It is, thankfully, not headed towards them. Rather, it swiftly scampers to the edge of the lake several meters away to drink, making no move to interrupt them.

Dream is still conflicted though. Foxes, like ravens, are usually depicted as crafty specimens in children’s fairy tales. Granted, they _are_ just stories, but. There must be some correlation between the two, so Dream doesn’t want to completely let go of his guard.

Dream lets go of his original plan to take a bath, opting for now to get as far away from the fox as possible. Stripe gives Dream a confused caw at Dream’s movement, his head rapidly switching (almost comically) between him and the fox. Dream would laugh if he wasn’t so concerned about the fox’s sudden appearance. Dream lowers his upper-body, hoping Stripe will get the hint, and the bird obediently hops on. 

Dream moves carefully, walking several paces down the stretch of the shore, trying not to make it too obvious that he’s staring down the fox. The animal makes no move to follow them, only minding its own business at the water’s edge. A couple minutes later, and the creature is only a dot in the distance.

Figuring that’s good enough, Dream finally decides it’s time for him to get clean. Again, the heavy drenched feeling settles over his wolf frame, weighing him down in the water. Stripe stands a little bit past the shoreline as well, getting some of his under-feathers wet in the process.

After rolling around in the lake and making playful splashes in Stripe’s direction, Dream’s done. His skin doesn’t itch anymore, the blood clots are gone, and baths are the freaking best, Dream thinks. He shakes out the water from his pelt (and this time Stripe actually flies away to avoid getting doused. Smart guy.), checking the position of the fox. He can’t really make it out at this distance, but it feels like they’re being watched.

Dream shivers. They should get moving.

Stripe clambers onto Dream’s wet back and they start traversing the edge of the water, since swimming across was not an option for a lake of this size. (Not that it would’ve mattered even if it were smaller — Dream doubts he could carry Stripe across the whole thing without drowning him.) And in the distance, the unmistakable dot of the creepy fox was still following them. Sigh.

Whatever. The animal was so far away now, it couldn’t do anything to them even if it wanted to. Dream will let the matter go for now.

It takes the two of them the whole day to walk around the lake. By then, Dream’s fur has dried and poofed itself out, sort of like a pillow. Dream finds himself a spot to sleep between a couple of dull bushes. Stripe, as usual, burrows his tiny frame next to Dream’s side, letting out small caws of content. Dream’s chest bursts with… something. Fondness? Protectiveness? It’s warm and it encapsulates him, makes him think he’s glad to have Stripe by his side.

Dream half wants to stay awake the whole night to keep watch, but his internal sleep-clock makes the choice for him. When Dream is blinking himself awake, it’s already morning. And a few paces away, the fox is curled up underneath his tail, also sound asleep.

...well. At least they weren’t attacked mid-sleep. And at least the fox’s aim wasn’t to eat Stripe (which was what Dream had initially suspected was the purpose). Though confused by the creature’s clear lack of hostility, Dream isn’t exactly keen on getting on friendly terms with it just yet. After nudging Stripe awake, they head off into the forest again and leave the fox behind. 

Dream knows he saw one of the fox’s ears flicker earlier though. They’re probably gonna get followed again, he supposes. Having a stalker wasn’t exactly on Dream’s wish-list, but it could be worse. 

After a couple more hours of traveling, Stripe reminds him to take a break again, so they do. The raven then goes on to try jumping off Dream’s back, like a baby bird learning to fly. Dream chortles out a laugh from the back of his throat when he sees Stripe continuously failing his landings. It takes a couple repetitions, but Stripe eventually gets the hang of gliding in a straight line again. The actual flying functionality doesn’t seem to have returned yet, but Dream’s happy to see improvement in Stripe’s condition.

But then the bushes rustle and Dream gets up on all fours, warning bells ringing in his head. He barks at Stripe, and just as the bird turns at his call, another massive bear appears from the bushes without warning, looming behind him like a massive shadow.

Dream and Stripe run for each other immediately. Stripe squawks as he skids to Dream’s side, and Dream crouches, baring his teeth in a protective growl. This bear is easily double the size of him, but Dream isn’t gonna go down without a fight. 

However, the bear doesn’t make a single move. It only tilts its head disinterestedly at them and, a gruff huff later, it’s turned and started to lumber away. Dream is… surprised. Maybe a little shocked. He gives Stripe a look, wondering if he’s trippin’ or something, but the bird only stares back as if to say “don't look at me, I’m just as confused as you are.”

Stripe is trembling a bit as he climbs back on Dream’s back, and he realizes the bird must’ve been reminded of their first bear encounter. Dream’s heart softens with sympathy, knowing perfectly well how terrifying that experience must’ve been for his bird companion. 

When they resolutely resume their travels, Dream realizes something else: their paths perfectly coincide with the bear’s. It’s a shitty coincidence — because the tugging overlaps with the bear’s route, they can’t avoid running into the animal again. It may have been neutral to them at first, but it wasn’t Dream’s place to say that the neutrality would remain… 

Not wanting to run ahead for the fear of alerting the giant beast (or to give Stripe another panic attack), Dream settles for following at a reasonable trot. This was ridiculous, he inwardly sighs. A fox following a raven riding a wolf incidentally following a bear. What were they, a circus line? To any outsider, they must seem so strange. Actually, “strange” didn’t even cover half of it. This whole thing was just _bizarre_.

And the weirdest thing of all: why _were_ they all heading in the same direction?

Was it possible… that it wasn’t just a coincidence?

Dream had attributed so much of what had happened so far to serendipity, but now when he connects the dots, he knows better. The fox that doesn’t attack them, the bear that has no interest in them, the raven that at times seemed more human than wild. It had seemed like a stretch just a day ago, but now Dream considers that maybe, just _maybe_ … perhaps they were all the same. That perhaps they were all headed to the same place.

Just where would the end of this long road lead them to?

The pounding in Dream’s chest is loud and heavy, stronger than it’s ever been before. Even Stripe is more apprehensive, his shuffling on Dream’s back having increased in frequency. Wherever it was they were headed, they were getting close. Close to that feeling of “home”. 

And maybe it was about time they found out just _what_ exactly that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drum-roll*


	7. ☀️

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting underneath them is something huge. Something unexplainable, something completely out of place.

Night has fallen. George knows they’ve been traveling for hours and that Leaf should rest, but he doesn’t stop the wolf like he usually would. The tugging is so _strong_ now. It’d be a crime to stop now, he reasons. The least they can do is try to finally find out just _what_ it is they’ve been running towards for so long.

The trees have gradually grown sparser and less dense. The dirt became rockier in composition, the bushes fading out into smaller shrubs and weeds. Stripe squawks in awe as Leaf walks them over to the edge of the cliff-face, because waiting underneath them is something _huge_. Something unexplainable, something completely out of place.

It’s an abandoned ruins, an ancient-looking collapsed, stone structure of archways and rubble and cobblestone walls. In the middle of a _forest_ , sitting right on the edge of a wide expanse of what George can only assume is the ocean. How had humans not found this place yet? The bear that had previously given them a huge scare is already clambering down the edge of the cliff-face, clumsily sliding down to the ruins. Were they going to have to do that too?

The cliff wall is near-vertical, and would no doubt be a struggle for George if he chose to cling onto Leaf’s back. Because George can sort of glide now, he decides he’ll do just that and tumbles off Leaf’s back. The wolf gives him a knowing nod, and begins to descend the mountain himself. (George has long stopped questioning the very human-like nature of Leaf’s gestures.)

George stretches his wings and begins his descent. He directs his aim to one of the taller stone pillars, so that he can examine the progress of his friend’s climb. Leaf is doing alright, paws skidding over stones, but he definitely looks in control of himself as he hops from ledge to ledge. The bear has already reached the bottom, no doubt having tumbled his way there. The fox that’s been tailing them for the past several days also makes his appearance at the top of the cliff, his snout raised in interest at the sight of the ruins.

George turns to survey the ancient rubble, and he does a double-take. It’s not just them four: there’s _way_ more animals out here. On a pillar not too far away from his own, two birds are perched, beady eyes watching the newcomers. An owl and an eagle, George realizes faintly. What an odd combination. George hopes they’re not predatory to smaller birds — he’s not exactly keen on getting snatched up and eaten.

And even stranger, George can see the shuffling of animals closer towards the center of the ruin. It’s kind of hard to make out who’s there because of how dark it is, but the largest animal George can see is an antlerless deer. Its head is pointed towards the direction of Leaf’s descent, but it looks far from terrified, making no move to run.

George is confused as hell, but he doesn’t have much time to worry about it. Leaf has already reached the bottom of the cliff-face as well. George flies off his pillar, making a direct beeline to his friend. Leaf waits for him, and only until George has plopped himself onto Leaf’s back does he resume walking. George notices that the two intimidating birds are now gone from their perch on the pillar.

The behind of the bear disappears ahead of them into the hole of a ruin wall. George recognizes that area as the place where he saw the gathering of animals. Leaf fearlessly follows and, after only a second of hesitance, he enters past the doorway.

They’ve walked themselves onto a giant, circular platform. It’s made purely out of stone and completely surrounded by cobblestone walls (minus the hole they had used to walk in). Unlike the rest of the ruins, it’s devoid of plant life, almost as if it’s been purposefully preserved to avoid weathering. 

Yet, that wasn’t the most shocking thing. In the center of the circle are a conglomeration of animals that had no business being next to each other: a literal _armadillo_ hugging a white rabbit close to it, a mischievous raccoon hanging off the back of the deer George saw earlier, and the bear just sitting there as if he has nothing to do with the odd situation. George turns at the sound of pebbles crunching, and he sees the fox creep through the doorway right on their tail, its clever eyes sizing up the crazy meeting before them.

Leaf seems just as astounded as George, if the pause in his step is anything to go by. The fox pushes past them, his fur brushing only briefly with Leaf’s as he bounds towards the group. Leaf cautiously follows at a safe distance. The other animals tilt their heads downwards at their approach, as if in greeting, and George is blown away. 

What the hell was going on here? How were these animals so… unafraid? So welcoming?

Were they all led here like George was?

Wing beats can be heard above them. George looks up, sees the owl and eagle from earlier swooping down at them from the stars. They land on the ground in almost perfect synch, giving each other knowing looks. Suddenly, the ground is rumbling. George lets out an undignified squawk at the sight of stone platforms rising out of the ground, and ten seconds later, the miniature earthquake ends. The result of the odd occurrence is a ring of platforms of varying sizes. The other animals shuffle around awkwardly, looking confused at the change in the scenery around them, and that’s when George sees the drawings.

A few meters behind each platform, a carved drawing sits on the cobblestone wall surrounding their circular stage. The first drawing, of a deer and a racoon at its feet, lies directly across from a waiting platform. George watches in awe as the mentioned animals obediently walk to and stand on it. A second illustration of a lone bear draws the bear to it. The tall platform of the third drawing displaying an eagle and an owl standing side-by-side is already occupied by said animals. A fourth picture of a fox leads to a platform occupied by none other than the crafty animal. A fifth image of an armadillo and a rabbit tucked next to each other causes the respective animals to scurry their way over.

Leaf is already moving underneath him, and George stares at the platform he’s headed towards, blinking in awed shock. It’s an illustration… of _them_. A wolf’s head tilted towards the sky, and a raven proudly perched on its back. It’s mind-blowing. George feels his claws curling in disbelief at the sight, his breath caught in his small throat.

Just how could that _be?_ Why was it a picture of them? What _was_ this place?

They’re the last to reach their platform. George’s bird heart is beating so fast, he’s almost afraid it’ll jump right out of his chest. The pressure of the wind increases, the smell of sea salt invading George’s olfactory glands. Tension in the air mounts higher as the other animals all face towards the center of the circle, and when George follows suit, he sees the last drawing. At the center of the stage sits a platform of a six-sided stone, a lovely sun carved into each face.

And just in time, the sky was beginning to turn orange. The first rays of light peek over the edge of the world, and the sun stone begins to glow in an incredibly unnatural way, shining bright as a flashlight. George screws his eyes shut, momentarily blinded by the suddenness of the light, and then— 

George opens his eyes, and immediately realizes something is wrong with his eyesight. Did the flash of the sunstone fuck up his eyes? Everything looks grey and yellow, so boring and lifeless, it’s almost like he’s colorblind again. Except…

Wait.

George flexes his fingers. George looks down at his hand, as he flexes his fingers again. _What_. He has fingers now. He has arms! Legs! A face! George’s jaw falls open as the man he’s crushed underneath him groans, trying to raise his head from the ground. 

“What happened…?”

“Oh my _god_ ,” George gasps, his hand flying to his mouth, “ _Leaf?!_ ”

Leaf turns and looks at him, golden eyes widening, blonde bangs brushing against his forehead. “Wha… _Stripe?!_ ”

“Wait… whut.” What kind of name was _that?_

“Dude,” Leaf wheezes (Even as a human he wheezes!! The similarities were uncanny.) as he helps George up, but he’s immediately launched into a crushing hug. “Dude. _Dude_.”

“Wh- _what?!_ ” George sputters, but he can’t help the smile that’s growing on his face. _This_ was the wolf he’s been traveling with for weeks? All this time, Leaf was a _human?_ “Oh my— _stop_ , Leaf, you’re going to _crush_ me, you’re literally _huge_ —”

Leaf only wheezes harder at the comment, but he releases George like he wanted. “Dream,” he corrects. “Call me Dream.”

“Dream,” George echoes stupidly. He still hasn’t really gotten over the fact that Leaf— no, _Dream_ , is literally standing right in front of him as a human being. And that he has a nice voice. And a nice face. It’s unprecedented beyond so many levels. When Dream gives George an expectant look, George blinks awkwardly. “...what?”

Dream launches back into slight wheezing again. “What’s _your_ name?” he giggles.

George gives an embarrassed chuckle. “A-ah, George. I’m George.” 

“George,” Dream mirrors, the prettiest smile lighting up his face, “You were the best companion I could’ve ever asked for, I— thank you, for being my friend.”

George feels his ears turning pink. “N-no, I didn’t do anything really. Thank _you_ for letting me ride on your back when I broke my wing.”

Dream gives a wry chuckle. “We’ve been through a lot of shit, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” George breathes. Dream has turned his face and George follows his gaze, amazed to see that similar situations are occurring on every other platform. The deer and raccoon have transformed into two boys, one blonde and one brunet, and they were currently tousling on the ground, their laughter ringing in the air. Likewise, the birds had also turned into two guys, one in bright cyan and the other wearing glasses, and were currently hugging it out. The armadillo and rabbit pair resulted in the first girl of their odd group (as far as George could tell), and she was currently holding hands with an _incredibly_ tall man. Even taller than Dream, George thinks, which is an impressive feat in itself. The two lone creatures, fox and bear, had already walked to the center and were conversing amiably between themselves. One is on the lankier side and the other is on the larger end, but despite their differences, they seem to be hitting it off pretty well.

“Everyone’s conjoining in the middle,” Dream nods. “Should we join them?”

“I guess so,” George blinks, but before he can start walking, Dream has kneeled down and offered his back. “Wha— _Dream?_ ”

“Come on!” Dream laughs, “Just like old times, am I right?”

“You’re _so_ dumb,” George huffs, but he climbs on despite his words. With a woot, Dream goes charging down to the center, and George feels an idiotic grin splitting apart his cheeks at the familiarity of the experience.

There’s still so much shit that he doesn’t know the answer to. Why all these people became animals, or why they suddenly turned back into humans, or even what the purpose of this whole ridiculous thing was. He doesn’t even know where they are, how they got here, or how they’ll get back home. But, they had all the time they needed to figure it out. And with all of them gathered here, laughter ringing out in the air, hands and arms linked with their new friends, George believes in them. He knows that if they work together, just like how each mutualistic pair of animals worked with each other, they can all figure it out.

So, here would be the end of the adventure for Leaf and Stripe. But really, it was only going to be the start of a journey for Dream and George.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yeah, this is where I'm ending it! Though there's a lot of potential for a continuation, I'm going to be putting this story to a halt for now since I haven't thought that far out yet LOL. Maybe if I have some good ideas I'll make a sequel in the future, but no promises ^^;;
> 
> I've always wanted to write a story with all the Dream SMP members as animals, so I'm just glad I finally got around to doing that xD Though they weren't really mentioned until the last chapter, I still like thinking about the interactions they had to go through to get to this endpoint. Though I won't be writing any of those interactions myself, I encourage you to feel free to imagine how those went down yourself :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed tagging along with Leaf and Stripe's journey, and thank you so much for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](https://peppdream.tumblr.com/)! peppdream.tumblr.com


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